A Robinson Tale - Part 1: Freakuencies
by Colin904
Summary: The Robinsons have just arrived in a new binary system and danger is closer than they think. Music soothes the savage beast, but what about humans? AU picking up right after the end of season 1.
1. Chapter 1

A Robinson Tale

Part I

Freakuencies

* * *

Chapter 1

"Danger!" Will said.

John's stomach churned as a long, wavy lament reverberated in the cockpit. What now?

Rubbing his aching temples, he moved closer to the windshield and anchored his feet into the deck. This system looked like a giant demolition zone.

At its center, the red and blue binary stars burnt with a raging intensity. Wide bands of asteroids spiraled around the pair like clouds around the eye of a hurricane. In the middle of these dust storms, three helpless planets waited to be atomized. An urge to scurry under cover seized him.

How could those two stars be stable? John took a deep breath to quell his nerves and darted a look at his wife.

"Are we at a safe distance if–"

"A supernova isn't what we should worry about."

The strain in Maureen's voice and her eyes drilling a hole in the glass-screen console as she probably tried to make sense of a flood of data coming from their sensors did little to reassure him.

"What then?"

"Radiation."

Will's soft voice resonated like a judge delivering a death sentence. What the heck had gone wrong this time? They'd fled Earth's polluted atmosphere to seek pristine skies on Alpha Centauri only to end up from one decaying system to another. That was one irony he did not appreciate. How was he going to keep his family safe?

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maureen? How long do we have before... you know." He didn't want to say before we die. Not in front of the kids, even though they all were smart enough to have drawn the same conclusion. They were screwed.

No. There had to be a way. On Will's picture of the robot's drawing, a rudimentary map of this system, they were five dots. Assuming they were all planets, maybe one would be habitable. John returned to Maureen's side.

"What are our options?" he asked, gently squeezing her hand. Her bloodshot eyes locked on his and her lips trembled for a bit.

"If the Resolute doesn't pick us up in the next forty-eight hours, we'll have to land."

John winced at the time frame, but two days were still better than two minutes he guessed.

"Land again? Where? What if they aren't any suitable planet in this system? What are we going–"

"Stop whining, Penny, and focus on finding a solution."

Her mother's harsh tone caused tears to pearl into their daughter's eyes.

"Hey, hon. We're working on the problem. It's going to be okay." John's voice was like he wanted it to be, strong, but Penny needed more than that to keep her growing panic at bay.

"Easy for you to say it's going to be okay! You're used to life and death situations. Guess what? We aren't! I never wanted this! Why did we leave Earth? Whose stupid idea was it?"

"I want to go home, our home, in LA."

John spun toward Will and felt a pang in his heart to see tears running down his face. His son, too, had reached the end of his rope. "Hey, hey," he said in a hushed voice as he gently grasped the boy's frail shoulder. "I know we've had some pretty rough times but–"

"Rough? Try grueling! Do you have any idea how much–"

"Penny!"

While mother and daughter glared at each other, John raised a hand toward his wife and gestured for her to calm down. It wasn't unexpected a reaction. Everyone's resilience had been put to a strain, and if Penny or anybody needed to get it off her or his chest, so much the better.

John sent a silent plea to Judy to reassure her brother so he could take care of her sister.

"Come here, Will," she said.

John kissed his son's head and pushed him toward his older sister's open arms when the alien technology that had overtaken the ship resumed its singing exercise. The effect it had on the crew was immediate.

Will suddenly clenched his arms back around his bruised rib cage.

"Shh... it's okay, buddy. It's okay," he whispered, concerned by the level of mental exhaustion everyone displayed.

Maureen was still absorbed on her console but her hands were shaking. Judy, who'd seemed in control until now, paced back and forth with her eyes on her feet. Penny stared blankly at the binary stars, arms tightly crossed over her chest. She was shivering. The usually loquacious mechanic was sitting at the back of the cockpit with his eyes shut. He was rubbing his temples. Him too suffered a killer headache which was expected after their stunt in the Watanabe's Jupiter a few hours earlier. Nine g's was a bitch to pull, even with training. But hey, they were alive, and in his book, it was always reason for hope. Until now. No. Even now. Even if this was one ordeal too many.

John drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, all too aware that nerves had an annoying tendency to give way suddenly. If he, who had spent his whole life pushing himself to the limits of what a highly trained human body could take, struggled to manage the stress caused by their new predicament, this crew would come tumbling down like a house of cards.

Now, what were his options? To land or to get rescued by the Resolute.

John grabbed the radio.

"Resolute, this is Jupiter two. Victor, do you copy?"

While they waited for an answer, he forced a smile on his face. "Hey, look at the bright side. Two stops on a direct flight qualifies us for a refund."

He glanced at Penny, waiting for her rebellious quip. But the only reaction he triggered was once more alien. Another long, eerie tone reverberated once again in the cockpit, wafting like a ghostly presence before faltering in a sigh. Goosebump covered John's arms. Great. Now the alien intelligence was playing with the thermostat.

"We should launch our distress beacon," Judy said, rubbing her arms.

The hair on John's neck stood up. "We're not there yet." Broadcasting their location in a place which all his instincts told him was hostile was a last resort action. "Give your mom a moment to determine where we are."

Maureen straightened up and slammed her palms into the console. "I'm locked out of every system. I can't even stop the ship."

John strode to the back of the cockpit and pulled the emergency shutdown lever on the left side of the doors when from the corner of his eyes, he saw Judy reach for the distress beacon switch on the opposite side of the door.

The alien noise burst like a gunshot. A white hot pain exploded in John's brain. His sight constricted to a spot no larger than a pinhead and his legs grew numb. Pull it together, dammit! Him fainting in the cockpit was exactly what the crew didn't need to see.

"Dad? What's wrong?"

Was it Judy's hand on his shoulder? Her voice seemed so far away.

"Sit down. Will? Get me a powerbar, fast."

John locked his knees. If he sat down now, he'd collapse. "I'm good. I just need a minute."

But he was bleeding strength. Come on! He had more stamina than that. The last time he'd felt that worn out, that must have been at BUDS* and if he were there, Instructor D. would be screaming at him to get a hold on himself. Though he'd say it in more colorful words. John's lips curved up. Energized by this memory, he took a series of deep breaths to fight against the dizziness when Judy shoved something in his right hand.

"Hey, eat this."

Eat? That was a good idea indeed. When was his last meal? Eight? Ten hours ago? After a few bites, John's vision and hearing cleared. He finished one bar and gave the second to Don. "Hey, buddy. Take this."

"Feeling better?" Judy asked.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"We're still moving. John? I know you're spent, but I need you to go down and pull the emergency switch directly on the engines or disconnect whatever is bringing power to them."

Stop the ship. Right. Basement. What was wrong with the lower deck? Something was... amiss.

"I'll go."

As Judy turned to leave, John caught her arm and forced his reckless daughter to step back into the cockpit. No way he had any of his kids running across the Jupiter, especially not in the flooded basement.

"You go into the hub with your sister and brother. Nobody goes downstairs until I give the all-clear! Understood?"

"But dad!"

Ignoring Judy's call, John marched out of the cockpit.

* * *

BUDS: Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL


	2. Chapter 2

A Robinson Tale

Part I

Freakuencies

* * *

Chapter 2

Go into the hub.

Penny's legs reacted to the command at once.

"Dad?" Her call echoed between the bulkheads as she followed her father into the corridor.

She froze in front of the central room starboard entrance, watching her father striding toward the hatch leading to the engine room without a look back.

One moment ago he'd seemed so eager to reassure her and now, he was ignoring her. Why? Because he was pissed off.

Why did Judy always have to be so pig-headed? If they were screwed, it was her fault.

The alien melody reverberated.

Penny sent a circular glance at the corridor and tried to pinpoint the origin of the sound to no avail. The sound seemed to come from everywhere at the same time, as if the air itself was sweating the notes, as if the ship were a living, breathing beast. A cold shudder ran down her spine as she stared at the once familiar place. Their Jupiter was now a haunted ship.

Something brushed her left shoulder. Penny jumped two feet aside with a cry as Judy and Will passed by her. She leaped after them.

"Hey! Where are you going? Dad wants us to–"

"I don't care what he wants," Judy said.

Penny skidded to a halt. "What's wrong with you?"

"Go get some rest, Penny."

"Yeah! Like you can order me to go to bed."

Arms crossed on her chest, Penny anchored her feet to the ground and glared with a defiant smirk at her sister's back. But her attitude faded away as soon as Judy and Will turned around the corner and she found herself alone in the corridor again.

The alien music echoed, swelling like a wave before receding to a whisper. What was that for god's sake? Her eyes scanned the empty hub. Her mom had designed it to protect the crew against virtually anything. But what about ghosts?

Come on, Penny. Stay rational. Ghosts do not exist. Killer alien robots, giant eels, and monstruous bats do, but ghosts, no. Right? Penny's gut twisted. Now would be the worse time to find out that bloodthirsty vampires and vengeful specters weren't a fantasy in this part of the galaxy. The young girl rolled her eyes. Did she really have to invent new nightmares?

Sometimes, like right now, having a vivid imagination was a curse. Great. Of all words to qualify her creativity, she had to think about the word curse because now, she thought the Jupiter was cursed. Cursed ship, cursed crew. Dead crew. Penny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Enough with this nonsense. Her dad had said to go in the hub, so that was what she'd do, period.

Mimicking her father, Penny squared her shoulders and forced her wobbly legs to enter the hub.

See? No ghost.

Penny shuffled around the table. Nope, no ghost there. So far so good. No reason to panic. None at all. To convince herself, she sat at the dinner table and tried to relax her legs. But she quickly folded them back under her chair and straightened her back. The ship didn't vibe right anymore. Not that she wasn't happy to have gravity, but she liked normal better.

What was normal nowadays?

Penny forced her mind to mull the topic. For once, on a normal ship, she'd be floating, weightless. Better, on a normal day, she'd be either reading in one of the Resolute's lounges, or wandering with her friends, talking and daydreaming about life in the colony. Alright. All she had to do was a normal activity then, like reading. Where was her pad? Penny glanced with apprehension toward her bedroom when her mother's stressed-out voice burst out of the speakers.

"Where are you, Penny?"

"Oh my god." Penny clapped a hand over her hammering heart. No matter the galaxy, this was definitely normal.

She was still chuckling nervously when she reached for the intercom on the left side of the starboard door.

"In the hub."

"Come back in the cockpit, please."

"But dad said–"

"I need you here."

Penny's smile vanished. Here she was again, a victim of their unrelenting war over parental authority. She hated normal.

The eerie music drafted again.

Goosebumps spread all over her body and a cold shudder ran down her spine. Tears flooded her eyes. Why did the ship keep on making that depressing sound? It was like the Jupiter was singing its swan song. Its or theirs? Penny shook her shoulders.

This had to be the weirdest nightmare of her life.

"Penny?!"

Alas, the intercom again. This was real. "I'm coming, mom!"

After taking a quick glance at the shaft leading to the lower deck – in her new normal world, her dad would climb back just in time to see her disobeying a direct order – she tiptoed out of the so-called safest place in the ship wondering how long would the list of chores be this time. Because as far as she could remember, this was the only reason her mother requested her presence at her side.

As she came closer to the cockpit, Don's and her mother's voices reverberated in the corridor.

Were they arguing?

Shortly after, Penny halted on the doorstep and frowned, surprised by the sudden increase in tension in the cockpit.

"Hey! Watch your feet!"

"Get off!" her mother barked.

"You want to have control back or not? Let me do my job."

"For the third time, back-up console is downstairs. Move!"

"On schematics, yes. In reality, God knows. On the Watanabe's Jupiter, it was in the infirmary!"

"That can't be true."

"I swear! Couldn't believe my eyes either!"

Penny waved her hand. "Hi, mom. You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Just a second, honey." Maureen turned her head back toward the mechanic. "I need to focus on recalibrating the sensors to chart this system in case you manage to give us–"

"In case? Don West always gets the work done. But thanks for the vote of confidence! You're like all managers."

"What does this mean?" Maureen heaved a deep sigh and shook her head. "You know what? I don't have time for your lack of confidence in your capabilities–"

"Lack of– What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings but putting the blame on others is quite symptomatic. Now I need to focus and you need to clear off my way. Move!"

"Okay, okay! You win! I can't concentrate with you buzzing around me anyway. And you wonder why your husband re-upped for war?"

Don sprung up to his feet and bumped into her as he strode out. A flash of heat rose to Penny's face. What? Her dad had... what?

"Mom? What does Don mean by-"

"We're receiving a communication but it's full of static. Try cleaning the signal, please. It could be from the Resolute."

Penny raised her voice. "You told us dad had been ordered back to his combat post. That he didn't have a choice."

"So what? Does it make a difference? He left us. Now, please, focus on the signal. It could save our lives."

Penny clenched her jaw tight, her mind processing the betrayal, the hypocritical principles of honesty and integrity. And the irony. Oh, yes, let's not forget the bittersweet irony! Truth always comes out. How many times had her mother given them this lecture?

Feeling herself about to shout her indignation at her mother who had resumed whatever she was doing without even looking at her, Penny dashed out of the cockpit, marched to her room, slammed her fist on the control panel to close the door and collapsed on the spot.

Her chest tightened and her ears rang. Her head felt like it was about to implode. Sobbing, she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in her arms. A weird numbness invaded her, pinning her body to the floor. Gone in smoke was the travel brochure's promise of a better, happier, brighter future for their family. What was the point? They weren't a family anymore, no matter how hard they tried to make it work again. She'd thought, or hoped, that they could erase the scars of a forced three-year long separation. But that her father had chosen to go back to the front when he wasn't ordered to made things so much worse. Why had he chosen war over them?

The answer crushed Penny's heart.

Because the army had become his family. He hadn't left. Her mother had lost him. They had lost him. No, no, no, that wasn't true. He'd come back. As soon as their mother had told him that they were leaving for Alpha Centauri, he had resigned and joined them, proof that he still loved them. That they still were a family. But were they? She hadn't seen them kissing in a while, or walking hand in hand. Was the love between them irremediably damaged? Lost, like them?

The weird alien weird music stretched to a single mournful, complaining note that echoed to her mood. Oh god! What did it mean that an alien ghost understood her better than anyone around her?

The tears that had diminished rose again in her eyes. Penny wiped them down in her shoulder, stretched her arm toward her nightstand and grabbed her pad. She clutched it against her heart. It wasn't fair. But what was in this universe? They were living the most extraordinary adventure one could hope in one's life and here she was, bemoaning her parents' marital failure. Her head spun. Too many emotions swirled inside of her. Pain shot through her temples and she dragged a raspy breath. Tears flooded again her eyes and she gasped. Calm down, Penny. Calm down. And write. Yes, write.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. "A tale of two galaxies..." she said aloud as she opened her journal to a new entry.

Using the despair the ship's singing procured, she wrote down her pains without stopping.

After a while, Penny paused and let her gaze wander for a moment, appreciating the renewed sense of serenity writing had provided to her again. Calm, clarity, and serenity. Even the alien music didn't annoy her anymore. She'd found its point of origin: it was inside her. The haunting melody had revealed something that she thought she was lacking but in fact had been dormant in her until now: her strength. Not her mother's, not her sister's, not her brother's, not even her father's, but her own reason to breathe.

She stared at her writing and imagined the words rising in the air like nestling on their first flight. Would they fly or crash and live another day to try again? How their tale would end, she had no idea, but she was going to write their story, from the beginning to the end.

A smile curved her lips.

It wasn't so bad, was it? It had been painful, but she was finally awake, awake and free.

Like the nestlings in her mind, Penny stood up, and pad in hand, she leaped out of her nest.

"Hey, guys!" she said as she stopped on her brother's doorframe. "I'd like to collect your first impressions on our new predicament."

"Later!" Judy replied.

"Later impressions don't qualify for first imp–"

Penny cringed as her sister pushed her back into the corridor and shut the door in her face.

"Like mother, like daughter," she grumbled.

Okay. So first flight was a crash.

Penny recorded Judy's blunt lack of cooperation on her pad when a clapping sound reverberated, followed by a curse.

She cocked her head to the right and raised an eyebrow. Was that Don's voice? She might have a better chance with him. The guy seemed to have a lot to get off his chest earlier in the cockpit and was never shy saying whatever went through his head. She was ready to bet a million bucks that she'd have more luck with him.

Thrilled, Penny straightened her back and swooped down on her prey while the ship resumed its swan song.


	3. Chapter 3

A Robinson Tale

Part I

Freakuencies

* * *

Chapter 3

Judy shut the door and slammed her back into it. Her sister had some nerve! Unbelievable. And such a lack of empathy!

"That sound... the robot ship, it was doing it too, back on the planet, you remember? It could be a homing beacon. To guide him back home."

"Shh, Will. Try to lie down." Judy unclenched her fists and sat on the bed next to her restless brother.

What was Penny thinking asking him about his impressions. Wasn't it obvious? He kept trotting about the robot. Didn't Penny care that he was hurting? This capacity of hers not to worry about other people's emotional states was something she didn't get. Like father, like daughter, she guessed.

The alien creepy whisper reverberated again.

A growing feeling of unease twisted her gut. Judy raised her eyes and scanned the room. Since when did homing beacons sounded like the whooshing of a heart murmur?

"Our ship is linked to him now, and it's hurting them to be separated. You remember when dad wasn't there?"

A flash of anger darkened Judy's eyes at the mention of their father's three-year absence. He'd deserted his family and a part of her still wanted to court-martial him for all the suffering his absence had caused, especially to Will.

She wrapped her arms around Will's frail frame. The boy freed himself and started rocking back and forth, clutching his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block the ship's lament. This irrational, compulsive move coupled with his sudden silence troubled Judy even more.

"You need to sleep, Will. Please, lie down."

Her brother shook his head and increased the pace of his rocking movement.

At a loss for words to ease his pain, she rubbed his back to soothe him. However, after a few minutes of him showing no sign of succumbing to his exhaustion, it became obvious that only a sedative would help him relax.

Truth be told, if what had happened in the cockpit twenty minutes ago was any indication, all of them would need a sleeping pill, even her. The mere idea of closing her eyes conjured the indelible image of the Watanabe's Jupiter exploding into a fireball in the night sky. Even though their father had pulled on the eject lever in time, saving his and Don's lives, the explosion and the following shockwave had been trapped in her brain as another traumatic memory, a second blow to her limbic system, already weakened by her near-death experience.

Her chest contracted and tears flooded her eyes. Understanding the physiological mechanisms was of little help. If only the ship would stop making that persistent noise... Last thing she needed was more stress hormones to be released into her bloodstream for god's sake!

As Judy scanned the room to pinpoint the origin of the nuisance, her glance fixed upon her brother's shelf. Her heart tightened to see his broken baseball trophy and she recalled he had sacked his room after the explosion. She stretched to grab the mp3 player, hoping that it would help distract Will. At the very least, it would cover the ship's lament. If it was giving her goosebumps, it was certainly one reason her brother couldn't sleep.

"Hey, why don't you listen to music?"

Judy put his headphones over his hands, searched for his favorite playlist, and turned up the volume. To her relief, Will adjusted the headphones. But he resumed rocking back and forth and set his expressionless eyes on the wall in front of him.

Resigned now to the idea of giving him a sedative, Judy rose to her feet. Before stepping out of the room, she cast a look down the corridor.

Her eyes narrowed.

Don's and Penny's voices came from somewhere near the infirmary. Not wishing to be cornered by either of them, she leaped like a cat across the corridor and entered the hub. She was pouring a glass of water for Will when a movement in her peripheral vision attracted her attention. Judy crouched behind the counter in haste and watched her sister stride across the hub, unaware of her presence. Where was she going now?

Flattening against the bulkhead, Judy stepped out of the hub and stretched her neck in time to watch her sister turn left toward the airlock. Her lips curved up. Well, if there was someone on this ship she didn't mind her sister to harass with her reports, it was Harris. After everything she'd done, the woman deserved this kind of torture.

Judy tip-toed away, biting her lips to keep an insane urge to laugh under control because it would have revealed her presence to Penny and she didn't want to spoil Harris's predicament. But as she reached the infirmary doorstep, her expression transformed into one of deep consternation.

Dismantled panels, screws, bolts, tools littered the deck, the examination bed, even her desk. And in the middle of all this mess was Don West, lying on his back, his head inside the CT scanner console. If an electrocution didn't kill him, a burst of radiation would certainly do the job. How could the guy be so reckless?

Judy opened the circuit breaker box and switched it off. Nothing happened. She tried again a few times but the lights didn't even flicker. Where was the power coming from?

"I've got nothing more to say! Let me work!"

Judy kicked the sole of his right boot.

"Who gave you the authorization to pull my work place apart?"

"Ah, it's you, Doctor Robinson. Thought it was your annoying sister again. Don't worry. I'll put everything back in order when I'm finished." He put down one screwdriver and grabbed another.

"For your information, the engine room is on the lower deck."

Don pulled himself out from the console and shot her an irritated glance. "For the third time, I know where I am. Not my fault if the guys back on Earth improvised at every corner when they assembled this unit. Make yourself useful instead of criticizing what you don't understand. Have you seen my easy-out? No, don't bother! I got it," he said just as she leapt above him.

Her foot connected with his arm and the screwdriver flew out of his hand, hitting the side of a panel with enough force to make it crash, missing his head by an eighth of an inch.

"Did you do this on purpose? One broken nose wasn't enough now you want to split my head open? What kind of doctor are you?"

_Moron! _While he roamed on all fours looking for his tool, Judy hurried to access the infirmary's controls. There. All diagnostic systems off-line. Now he could start putting back everything together without his neurons risking liquefaction.

"Ah! Found it." Don raised his head and pointed a finger to her. "Don't move this time!"

Then, to Judy's despair, he crawled back inside the console. Judy rubbed her temples to ease a growing headache. As annoying the man was, she didn't want him to be hurt or killed, but unless she dragged him out by his feet, it was doubtful that the mechanic would stop his reckless intervention.

"You know there are three hundred and forty volts running through this console, don't you?"

"Yeah. Tell me something I don't know."

"Get the hell out of here."

"I'd like to, but we need navigation back. Ah, don't worry. It's not the first time I've been forced to operate on a hot system. I know what I'm doing."

Judy took a deep breath to calm her nerves. And another one. Her right heel drummed against the floor. She pressed her hand on her knee to force her leg to stop and realized her jaw hurt from clenching. Judy put her hands flat on the desk in front of her, fingers apart, straightened her back, relaxed her shoulders down, closed her eyes, and breathed through her nose. She wanted to punch the guy! Her heart rate spiked and her eyes flew opened. Nope. Yoga was not going to be of any help today. She needed to keep her mind occupied. That's what she needed.

Don West's physical and mental health was her responsibility. As of right now, he was a patient, A patient she had no history on because the Resolute crew members weren't part of the Jupiter community, so she didn't have access to his file.

Judy adjusted her seat and opened a new entry in the colonists' medical database.

"What's your date of birth?"

"If it's to wish me a happy birthday, you're one week late. But nobody ever bothered anyway, so don't be the first. I wouldn't know what to think."

"I'm creating your medical record from scratch."

Don snorted. "First entry: broken nose! Add serious anger management issues in your file and leave mine in peace. Anyway, not that I don't enjoy our little chit-chat, but I'm trying to focus on hijacking our own ship from an alien artificial intelligence, remember? I've never seen anything like this before. It's like there's a ghost in the circuits. Don West, exorcist in fine mechanics! Write that down in the occupational section."

"When was your last psychological evaluation?"

"Never got one."

"Display mythomania tendencies."

"Mytho- what?"

"Means you're a compulsive liar. I recommend a consultation with a specialist ASAP."

"I know what it means! No, thanks. I'll pass. I don't need to consult. I'm perfectly sane."

"Says the man trying to fix navigation by wrecking havoc the CT scanner control unit!"

"Scanner? Huh! Told you those guys on Earth were all-round champions!"

Don shifted his position to reach further under the console. "Relax, Doctor Robinson. This console is not your scanner. Your scanner is behind you. And it's probably not as powerful as you were told it was. This is the navigation backup but for some reason, my guess is budget cuts, it hasn't been wired in the mainframe. Their oversight might be our salvation. Let's see–"

A spark burst. Don yelped. "No worries, I've got this. Just a loose soldering joint that gave way. Could you pass me the iron? It's on the bed."

It was like a hemorrhage of nonsense. Each word that poured out of the mechanic's mouth increased the tension in Judy's body, like a spring being twisted, and twisted, and twisted. The ship's sudden spike in vocal exercise gave the last straw.

Judy opened the drawer on her left, picked up the jet-injector, loaded a sedative cartridge in it, put on a sterile cap, dropped to the deck, and jabbed him on his side, just above his waist where his shirt was turned up and revealed a perfect spot of bare flesh.

Don jolted upright, banged his head on the drawer, and fell flat on his back. "Ow! Who left that open? And what stung me?"

Judy gasped, feeling her guts liquefy. "Are you allergic to anything?"

When he didn't answer, she crawled under the console to get a look at his face, worried to discover his lips swelling and his skin blistering. How could have she forgotten to ask him this simple question?

"Yeah, to bees. Was it a bee?"

"Did you hear buzzing?"

"Buzzing? Yeah. My ears are buzzing…"

Judy stretched a hand toward the drawer, grabbed her penlight, and crept under the tight console to examine the mechanic. "Let me see."

"Er... not that I don't like you crawling all over me but I'm pretty sure if your mother found us in this position she'd kill me, and I told you I'm too young to die, so would you please back off a little?"

"Stop wriggling. You mean my father will kill you."

"No. Despite him being who he is, I trust your father not to jump to conclusions. And I'm not wriggling. You are."

Judy frowned. "What do you mean, despite him being who he is?"

"A black-ops guy."

"You're mistaken. He was a Navy Seal. A combat diver."

Don snorted. "Yeah. Anyway, knowing a hundred different ways to kill someone with one's bare hands comes with a certain restraint. A restraint your mom lacks. So please back off before my day gets any worse."

"Whatever. You seem fine." Judy crawled back, as puzzled to see him keeping speech ability for so long as she was to feel a certain tension rising in her belly.

"You sound disappointed."

As Don pulled himself from the tight space and got up, she turned away to check the dosage on the injector and frowned. It should have been enough. Either Don West was heavier than he looked or this device was faulty. At least, the one in the emergency kit was working. Where was it?

Panels clashed on the ground. Judy spun on her heel and caught the mechanic's arm as he swayed like a pendulum. His legs buckled. In a fast move, she lunged to sweep away as many tools and screws so he could lie down in the middle of the mess.

Don pointed a shaky finger toward the ceiling. "I think got myself a concush... on tha... draweeeer." His eyes rolled backwards and his arm fell against the last panel leaning up against the bed.

Judy shot out her hand to keep it from crashing over the mechanic's face and sighed.

At last! The motormouth had stalled.

She glanced at her pad and nodded, satisfied by the readings: slow and stable, just like she wanted. A loud snore an instant later confirmed the deep sleep pattern. She winced and made a note to check the realignment of his broken nose before getting up to shove a few more cartridges and sterile caps in her pocket.

"One down. Five to go."


	4. Chapter 4

A Robinson Tale

Part I

Freakuencies

* * *

Chapter 4

Harris snorted and spun around to face the airlock's external door. Seeing Maureen's daughter observing her through the small, circular window like she was some kind of animal in a cage blew her mind.

While she stared at the vacuum of space, the vulnerability of her condition cranked up her nervosity. It was a simple sheet of metal that separated her from a gruesome death. Like that man... her sister's lover... she didn't know his name.

Harris's eyes froze as she dived into the terrible memory. His body floating in space like a puppet whose strings had been cut... by her hand... Her throat tightened. She didn't want to do this to him. But it had been necessary. He had discovered her fraud. She would have been arrested and sent back to earth to rot in another jail. She couldn't go back in a cage. At least his body was free. For eternity.

Harris tilted her head as she brushed the external door with her fingers. It was a simple sheet of metal indeed...

There were a lot of misconceptions about what would happen if an unprotected body was exposed to the dark, cold void. Her blood wouldn't boil. Her body wouldn't swell and explode. She wouldn't freeze to death either though she'd get sunburned. But that wouldn't matter because she'd have lost consciousness after fifteen seconds and been dead in as much. A rapid although unpleasant end. She didn't relish the idea to feel all the molecules of air rushing out of her lungs, her mouth, her nostrils, even her intestines.

The Jupiter rocked and a shadow passed by the viewport.

Startled, Harris stretched her neck to see what it was but it was gone. Maybe it was her cranky imagination. Or maybe it was something else.

As the ship reprised its stranded whale solo, the walls seemed to close on her. Like Jonas, their boat was about to get swallowed. No, not swallowed. Chewed, shredded into pieces, ripped open to the vacuum of space.

The shadow passed by again, solid and dark. What was this thing?

Harris hammered the airlock's internal door with her fists to attract Penny's attention. But the girl was too absorbed in whatever she was writing or didn't care to raise her head. Why would she?

Harris drew away with a cry of rage, took a deep breath, held it a second and charged back to the intercom. "Dammit, Maureen! Let me out! Now!"

"_Airlock depressurization in thirty seconds." _The computer's impersonal voice announced.

* * *

"And that's two!" Judy said outloud as she shut Will's door.

A rough jolt shook the Jupiter. The deck pitched starboard. Gasping in surprise, Judy bounced against the hub's bulkhead and staggered to the middle of the corridor when the ship stabilized.

What now?

Placing a hand on the wall to steady her steps, she resumed her way to the cockpit when the computer's voice echoed, soft and calm.

_"Airlock depressurization cancelled. Airlock depressurization in thirty seconds. Airlock depressurization cancelled."_

Judy raised an eyebrow. Had Don compromised a critical circuit?

As the mournful alien aria sounded above the computer's warning, Judy felt a draft of air as cold as a polar gust blowing against her face. She came to a halt, wrapping her arms around her shivering body, looking all around her in aprehension. Where was that wind coming from? Her eyes lowered on the ventilation grid on her right.

Damn you, Don West! The mechanic must have inadvertently set the ac to max.

A nervous chuckle escaped Judy's lips as she got herself back on track, annoyed to feel her legs so shaky. One more stress, even the lights going out, would be enough to send her running down the corridor like a scared child calling for her mother.

But the lights didn't go out. As she reached the cockpit a few seconds later, Judy froze on the doorframe, mesmerized by the red and blue halo that bathed the Jupiter's control room.

Had they moved closer?

A planet's rings were now distinguishable in the right corner of the windshield. How could they move so fast? It was like the Jupiter was on steroids or something. Judy swallowed hard. What was taking her father so long to stop the ship? And where was her mother?

A tremor ran along the deck.

"_Airlock depressurization in thirty seconds."_

Maureen appeared from behind the navigation console and cursed as she slammed her fist into it.

_"Airlock depressurization cancelled."_

"Oh! Judy. Good thing you're back. Your sister's pouting. Give me a hand here."

Startled, Judy hid the jet-injector fast behind her back.

"What's going on with the airlock?" she asked while her mother dived under the console without telling her what to do.

"If Harris wants to jettison herself, she has my blessing. I don't have time to play games with her." Maureen stood up, a cable in her hand. "Plug this in the communication terminal secondary port, please."

Her mother shoved the cable in her hand. As Judy turned around, perplexed, her eye was caught by what she saw on the floor. She gasped. Like Don, her mother seemed bent on dismantling the ship's nervous system. Aghast, she crouched behind the copilot's seat to hide herself while she set the dosage on the jet-injector.

"Did you do it?" her mom asked.

"Err… Yeah. It's done. Care to tell me what are you doing here?"

Her mother let out a deep sigh of frustration.

"It's not working. Every single system has been compromised. If only your father…" Maureen sprung up to grab the radio. "John? What's taking you so long for God's sake?"

_"Signal's breaking up, Covenant. Repeat last transmission. Do we have a go?"_

Judy's shoulders tensed upon hearing the strain in her father's hoarse voice. "Who is Covenant?"

"I have no idea what game your father thinks he's playing."

"I'm not sure he's playing. He sounds like he's waiting for this Covenant to give him an order to do something," Judy said, growing more alarmed by the second.

"The only thing to do is to cut the power to the engine and the only one to give orders here is me!"

_"Cove... hav... go?"_

Her mother shot a glare at the radio and she shouted: "Yes, John, you have a go! Stop that bloody ship and find a way to silence it too. That persistent whine is distracting."

_"Acknowledged. SAT teams 1 and 2 moving in. SAT-3 standby."_

What? Judy shoved the jet-injector in her rear pocket and stretched her hand toward the radio. "Take care of the sensors, mom. I got this."

"Thanks, honey."

"Dad? It's me, Judy. How's your headache?"

While she pulled her father's vital signs on her pad, Judy kept an eye on her mother buzzing restlessly from console to console at the edge of her vision, mumbling to herself. Something was wrong with her too.

"Dad? Are you still there?"

No answer came. On the pad, his heart rate sped up, reaching a velocity that competed with the ship. Judy bit her lip. There was no sign of a more problematic arrhythmia but his readings were all off the charts as if he had taken stimulants.

"Dad? Report to the infirmary, please."

"_Airlock depressurization in thirty seconds."_

"Go to hell, Harris!" Maureen slammed her fist in the console once more.

Judy swivelled toward her. This was insane. Her mother's restlessness and out of control anger signalled a post-concussion syndrome from Harris's blow to her head. She couldn't leave her alone in that state but triage protocols meant she needed to check her father because he sounded delusional and now he was silent. Where was Penny when you needed her?

"Mom? I'm going down to check on dad. I'll be right-" Judy cried as her mother suddenly sprung toward her and tossed her aside while a bitter voice behind her chilled her blood.

"You surprise me, Maureen. I didn't think you had it in your guts to kill someone."

"How did you get out?" Her mother brandished a screwdriver in front of her.

"Am I responsible for your spawn's weaknesses?" Harris staggered forward like she was drunk. A smirk of disgust distorted her mouth. "I don't think so."

Judy's eyes fired as a genuine fear for her sister seized her. A blow to a teenager's head could have deadly consequences.

"Penny? What have you–" Maureen asked when the spectral, alien shriek burst like a sonic bomb.

Judy hit the deck. Pressing her hands over her ears, she curled into a ball as a freezing darkness sent her heart beating wildly in her aching chest. Ice! Ice was pressing around her! A dark coffin emprisonned her.

Time and space ceased to have any meaning, leaving only the distress, the terror, the hopelessness, the jolts of a magnitude-nine earthquake ripping her chest apart, shredding every single muscle fiber of her body. And suddenly it was gone and she was in the cockpit again, panting on the deck.

_"Emergency airlock depressurization in five, four, two, one."_ The computer marked a pause. "_Airlock depressurization complete. Opening outside hatch."_

Judy pushed on her hands and sat up, leaning her back against the windshield while she registered groanings on either side.

An urge to lash out at Harris seized her, so raw her Hippocratic Oath would have failed to hold her back if her mother hadn't called her. Judy crawled on all fours toward her.

"Mom? Are you all right?"

"Where's John? Where's your father?"

"He's downstairs. Are you hurt?"

"Did you see him?"

Judy bit her lips and palpated her mother's scalp, searching for a bruise or a bump. She needed to get her to the infirmary. With a little luck, there was still enough power to run a scan.

Her mother's fingers clenched around her arm. "Did you see him, Judy?"

Judy's heart twitched as she felt compelled to lie to keep her calm. "I talked to him. So did you."

"All those sirens... why does he insist on running late at night?"

"Dad's not running. He's downstairs fixing the engine. Come on now, get up."

Keeping an eye on Harris, who was sitting on the floor and was holding her head, Judy wrapped her mother's arm around her shoulder and hauled her on her feet.

"We're in the Jupiter," Maureen said as they walked through the door arch.

Thank god! Her mother was lucid again. Now, if only she could put a foot in front of the other...

The ship jolted hard enough to send Judy bouncing into a bulkhead.

Her mother's limp body dragged her to the ground. Judy pushed up on her hands to sit on her heels. The infirmary was only twenty feet away. She was straightening herself when a red glow diffused into the corridor. The deck shook under a heavy footstep.

A spasm blocked Judy's breath.


	5. Chapter 5

A Robinson Tale

Part I

Freakuencies

* * *

Chapter 5

A blurred movement caught John's eyes in the half-lit lower deck. He froze and scanned the passageway. It wouldn't be the first time they'd been boarded. Once by a colossal killer machine and the second by anaconda-sized eels. Could those things have laid eggs around the fuel tanks? Had those eggs hatched?

His hand searched for his switchblade in his right pocket. But it wasn't there because he was still wearing his EVA* suit.

A screeching noise pierced his eardrums. John hunched and almost fell to his knees while the hair on his neck stood up. A familiar stress tensed up all his muscles.

No way was he going further unarmed.

John hurried back up to his quarters, put on black pants and shirt, retrieved the printed gun in the safe, and the modified bullets from his backpack. It was time to see if the five hours of sleep time he'd sacrificed to cap them with copper tips had been worth it. While he loaded the magazine, he glanced over his shoulder, expecting Maureen to catch him red-handed. That would certainly make his day.

Alleviating his wife's suspicions after his faster-than-light-speed authorization to join the tightly-vetted twenty-fourth colonist group had been tricky enough. Explaining his possession of a ready-to-three-D-print military-grade nine millimeters file on a smuggled USB stick had been ridiculous at best. His joke about the tiger and the jungle couldn't have fallen flatter. If his idealistic, pragmatic, and suspicious wife saw the enhanced ammunitions, her paranoia would reach Alpha Centauri before the Resolute's original timetable.

Sure, he could tell her that it wasn't so much having the equipment as having the skills, but he wouldn't buy his own defense.

Isolated incidents had an untoward tendency to aggregate and pile up; a pile of evidence now high enough to undercut his sincere plea for a second chance to prove he could be the father and husband his family and wife deserved.

John looked askance at the couch. No doubt he'd end up sleeping on it if Maureen saw him right now.

Maybe Judy would provide him with a medical exemption because of his ribs but he balked at the idea of giving a reason to his daughter to dig into his medical file. That was one Pandora's box he preferred to remain closed. The couch it would be.

With little hope that he'd escape a thorough inquiry both from his wife and his daughter at some point, John shoved the weapon in his waistband behind his back and loosened his shirt over it.

Then, after checking that the corridor was free of friendly fire, he edged against the walls back to the shaft. He was passing by the infirmary when animated voices from within made him peek a look.

John regretted his curiosity right away.

What were Don and Judy doing under that console? On seconds thought, he didn't want to know. At least, not now.

When then?

John peeked again and shook his head. It was best not to say anything: for one thing, Judy's argumentative nature would nullify any advice he could give her, and for another, she was old enough to make her own choices, and last but not least, he didn't have time for this. He needed to go down and switch off the engine. He'd talk to Pandora later.

John straightened up and resumed his way to the hatch leading to the lower deck.

A minute later, he swept the passageway toward the engine room with the beam of his flashlight, training his gun in each section as he moved forward. As he reached the middle, the pressure in his ears increased and his breath shortened. John paused and stared through the half-darkness, confused by his lack of focus. His mind kept bringing him back to the last time he'd stood in this exact spot, a moment before an eel had dragged him under water. But today, there was no water and no eel. It was just him and the loud alien sound. He couldn't hear himself thinking above that uproar.

What uproar? It was silent. He could hear the water dripping from the ceiling. Plop. Plop. Plop.

John squeezed his eyes. Bile rose to his mouth. He gulped it down and took a ragged, shaky breath. When he opened his eyes again, he was in the Jupiter's basement.

Why had he come down here?

Ah, right. To pull down the emergency switch on the engines. John focused on that thought as he stepped forward again.

The deck jolted, forcing him to lower on his knees to keep his balance. The tremor passed. John straightened up and scanned his surroundings anew. A solid shadow overhead made him crouch in haste. He blinked in surprise. The ceiling was low, and rough, and a putrid sap dripped on his head and shoulders.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

A sudden reek penetrated his nostrils. He bit his lips to keep from vomiting. The potent stench was sanding off his throat.

"SAT Team leader to Covenant. We're in position."

Had he said that aloud? The words had burst out of his mouth.

Sweat stung his eyes but he didn't dare move an eighth of an inch. He looked up again and frowned in confusion when he saw the network of fuel and water pipes running under the nine-foot high ceiling. His breath became shallow. For a moment, he swore he was back in Turkey, twenty years ago.

Maureen was right. He had gotten a concussion during his altercation with the robot, a concussion that his rough ride to get the Resolute's attention had worsened. And now he was losing it. He needed to lie down. No, he needed to... to..

What was he doing here?

Someone retched behind him. Oh for God's sake! One of his guys was sick. John felt his own stomach heave and he clenched his jaw as hard as he could.

A thick, wet clump of dirt fell on his helmet.

John raised his eyes and blinked to clear a drop of sweat. His vision blurred. His mind froze. The walls of the tunnel shook. Water clapped. Cold, stinking water.

Istanbul.

At the city's surface, the battle was raging.

The walls shook again. A slab of dirt collapsed on him. What was Covenant waiting for? One more blast and the whole damn district was going to crash on their heads!

John stared at the dark, half submerged passageway prisoners had dug over a century ago, before the Marmara Sea's turbid waters had risen, flooding the sewers and sinking the lower districts of the ancient city in a river of floating trash and putrescent organic matter.

This botched, last minute rescue mission was a death trap. Military Intelligence wasn't even certain the UN secretary was held in this jail. But he had volunteered, and despite his present discomfort, he would again without hesitation, like all his teammates. They'd all laugh about this stench next time someone forget his good manners.

Something brushed his leg.

Damn rats! John forced all his muscles to stay put when he saw a luminous signal underwater, some kind of bioluminescence. Great. Radioactive rats.

As the luminosity became brighter, John decreased his goggles' sensitivity to get better readings, aware that the loss in contrast created blind spots where a hostile could sneak in and hide.

What the hell was Covenant waiting for? Go or abort. What was so complicated? Or had they just received intel that they weren't at the right jail and he'd nuked his boys for nothing?

His radio crackled to life:

_"Jo...re...ill...ving?"_

"Signal's breaking up, Covenant. Repeat last transmission. Do we have a go?"

_"What... ta...kin...bout? Pu...the...ver down...Go!"_

"Acknowledged. SAT-1 and 2 moving in. SAT-3 standby."

Putting all his previous thoughts aside, John relayed the order to move on to the next phase to his team, secured his mask over his face, and dived into the corrupt waters.

Seventy yards further, he reached a central hub connecting four tunnels. He swam into the one on his three o'clock, Jackson covering his six. He was following a set of underwater cables when the waters receded.

"Hold positions."

While Jackson emerged behind him, he superimposed the network map obtained by MI on his visor to his sonar current view of his surroundings. A green triangle blinked right where he was supposed to be: sixty yards into the jail's perimeter, beneath the main building. According to the map, the UN Secretary's cell was thirty feet further on his left, one level up.

But there was a hitch.

Three yards in front of him, where there should have been a left turn, there was a wall. A wall with protruding cables. Cables could indicate the presence of an operating command center. No wonder the pumps' racket was so high. How many did it take to keep that secret room dry? Whatever. This wasn't the mission. Saving the Secretary's life was. How were they going to reach him?

John gave the signal to turn around and regroup when something tightened around his calf.

Fuck.

He took out his switchblade and sliced a black and white snake in two.

A concussion grenade exploded.

John collapsed hard on his knees and covered his ringing ears with his hands. The ground tilted beneath him. He rolled down the passageway and crashed into metallic bars. A body smashed onto him. An elbow dug into his breastbone, knocking the wind out of him.

John pushed through the pain and the dizziness to stand up. But to get on all fours was all he could manage. Breathe, man, dammit! Breathe!

Hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him forward. Jackson's face appeared in front of him. His teammate was shouting to him to get up. John raised a finger over his mouth. Hostiles were going to check what had triggered the alarm. Their voices would give their location and Jackson kept screaming at him to move his ass.

Shut up!

John grabbed his teammate by the collar and pressed his hand over his mouth. Dying in a pool of rotting trash infested by rats, snakes, and God knew what else wasn't top on his list of favorite ways to go.

Sharp teeth pierced his glove in the fleshy part between thumb and index. John snatched his hand with a curse and watched Jackson climb up a ladder. Before he could rise up in pursuit, the ground rocked and tilted to a sudden thirty degree inclination.

The tunnels were collapsing!

John shot out his arms and legs to the sides to break his fall.

His consciousness shrunk to the fire consuming his left thigh. Had he been shot?

His head was exploding. His heart slammed against his rib cage. He couldn't hold this position any longer. John prepared himself to grab anything at hand's reach and let go.

But he didn't fall.

He stayed sprawled on his belly.

Waiting for a bullet to blow his skull.

If he was lucky.

No way he was letting himself being captured.

A light beam brushed his right hand fingers. John rolled to the side, took out his handgun, and fired.

* * *

EVA: Extra Vehicular Activity


	6. Chapter 6

A Robinson Tale

Part I

Freakuencies

* * *

Chapter 6

Harris woke up with a start in oppressive darkness.

A layer of sweat covered her body as panic rose. She clenched her jaw while her senses registered suffocating signals: the darkness, the walls closing on her, the feeling that her control over her life was snatched out of her hands... Breathe in, five slow counts, breathe out, repeat. She made a conscious effort to bring her heart rate down. It worked. Claustrophobia no longer clawed at her. Nyctophobia ebbed. Obscurity was her oldest companion after all. Harris listened to the ethereal music playing in the background while her pupils dilated enough to make out the shapes around her. Weird. That shadow on her left was too wide to be her desk. And there were two of them. But the strangest thing came from her right: light. Little spots of light. Lots of tiny, little spots of light.

Stars.

Harris sighed in relief.

She wasn't in the cage her father had called a bedroom. She was lying on her back on the deck of a ship stranded god knew where.

The Robinsons' Jupiter to be precise.

Harris' jaw clenched again but this time it wasn't because of terror.

She rolled on her back, bringing one hand to her aching chest and the other to her pounding, burning head. Blood wet her fingers from an open gash at the hairline, and the memory of how she got it resurfaced, hitting her like a crashing wave on a rocky shore, exposing raw emotions as it receded into the sea of her subconscious.

Not only for a doctor who had sworn to do no harm, Maureen's daughter didn't pull her punches, but that made one too many offense she'd suffered at the hands of a Robinson.

A flare of anger surged through her entire self, threatening to send her in an uncontrolled spree of rage.

Knowing better than to let her emotions control her, Harris focused her anger where it could be useful: on herself. She'd underestimated Maureen's combativity twice, and each time she'd ended up locked in a closet like an animal. True, she'd escaped both times, but if she didn't plan to be confined a third time, she needed to stop underestimating the Robinsons.

Another memory resurfaced in Harris' mind and she heard John's hoarse voice speaking to his doubtful, naive wife: you'd be surprised what a man can do to protect his family, he'd said when she had accused Victor Dhar of providing Angela the gun.

John was the key.

Present or not, he gave Maureen strength. His absence had been the trauma that had drawn his family together, injecting resilience in their veins and their very breath. Not leaving him to float in space had been a mistake, one that she'd be happy to correct.

Just as Harris began pushing herself to get up, the reptilian part of her brain sent her down in haste behind the console. The deck vibrated under her palm, loud thuds echoed, and a red halo dispelled the shadows at the back of the cockpit.

Harris gasped as the robot passed without noticing her presence and stopped two feet before the windshield. She stared at the four arms like one stare at a lion, appreciating its majestic beauty but praying that it didn't notice her presence. The robot had reverted into its combat mode once more.

The question was: did she still have its protection?

Will had lost it. But unlike the boy, she hadn't betrayed the robot. Nonetheless, caution commanded her not to take things for granted with this killer. A machine could be rebooted, hacked, reprogrammed, and she wouldn't know about it until it burst a fuming hole in her chest.

Harris took shallow, rapid breaths, willing herself to be invisible as she remembered the horrible smell of charred flesh in the Resolute's corridors.

The robot's spine twisted suddenly, causing her to jump.

Harris cringed as its globular head stopped less than one foot from her nose and its three-fingered hands sent an intense orange beam toward her face. Harris squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for high-intensity laser ray to pierce her body.

The metallic clapping of gear wheels in motion sounded above the furious beats of her heart.

"Danger, Doctor Smith."

Harris's eyes flew open.

The robot had rearranged its upper body to adopt a less aggressive, bipedal morphology. It still didn't get her name right and the speech ability was still limited. Harris let out a shaky laugh. Her dark guardian angel was back.

She stared into the robot's face and saw her reflection in the middle of the grey pixels swarming in its globular face. Harris twitched her head from side to side. The robot imitated her, its tiny dots shifting.

Were there billions of wireless neurons communicating or an open interface to the machine's core? Was someone looking at her through this gigantic eye? Someone wondering what or if she was thinking? Was it its own master? So many questions, so few answers.

The robot spun his head back toward the windshield and stepped back to the navigation console. Dark cables sprung out of a grid in the deck and intertwined around the Jupiter's pilot command, producing a spellbinding, pervasive melody.

A silver object in the middle of the cables attracted Harris' attention. It was Judy's jet-injector.

On all fours, Harris slowly stretched her arm and picked up the medical device. She ejected the cartridge, brought it closer to the light produced by the suns so she could read the tag, and whistled. There was enough sedative here to put an adult in a coma here. Though she would have prefer the gun, it was a nice find.

Empowered by the robot's return but wary that it could fail her anew, Harris began drawing the lines of a new strategy to ensure that her fate would never rest again in Maureen's hands, nor in John's, nor in any of their miserable offsprings'. And certainly not in those of that dumb, yammering dullard of mechanic. The man was as annoying as a fly, and he was a snoop. To think that he was the one who had seen right through her! He'd get what he deserved sooner rather than later.

On that thought, Harris stood up.

A wave of bitter disappointment hit her as she retrieved the flashlight from the emergency kit behind the communication console and strode out of the cockpit. Two-hundred-thousand years of evolution, and here she was, still a basic _Homo sapiens_ fighting for her survival in the middle of a band of degenerate Neanderthals.

Time had come to assert her authority over this stubborn rabble. With a murderous determination shining in her eyes, Harris crept up the dark corridor circling the locked hub, whistling, humming with the ship, matching its intonations, its harmony, in an attempt to communicate with her living environment.

The beam of her flashlight brushed the edge of the shaft leading to the fuel tanks.

A gunshot boomed in the passageway beneath her.

Harris leaped back in surprise while the bullet played a deadly game of pinball between the fuel tanks. What the hell was going on? Maureen had said the gun was secured. Harris paused for a moment in calculation, turning off her light. She'd heard John's voice in the cockpit earlier. His voice had come from the radio. He was the one firing. Harris grinned as a rush of adrenaline renewed her senses.

Sharp and alert, she swept the beam of her torchlight once more into the shaft, and snorted when a second detonation resounded.

Had Maureen's soldier lost it completely? Shooting while surrounded by metal?

Her thoughts froze and her eyes narrowed. A new thought stopped her progress dead. Three-D printed ammunitions didn't bounce, at least not so sharply. Good god, John was firing real bullets.

Her mouth fell open. A whisky smuggler and a possible arms dealer. What a crew!

_Let's be serious_, she berated herself. How many bullets did he have left? If he was a smuggler, it was hard to know. He could have shoved a couple of clips in his pockets.

Harris chewed on her already ragged lips. There was only one way to know.

She turned her flashlight on and off three times in quick succession. As she expected, shots burst each time. The echo of the last bullet bouncing between the fuel tanks was followed by a groan of pain.

She chortled. The guy was going to kill himself. It was so easy that it almost felt like cheating. Victory without risk was triumph without glory, one said. Well, she could live with it.

Harris waved the flashlight like a red cape in front of a bull, whistling the Toreador's song and whispering its chorus, "Toreador, en guard! Toreador, Toreador! And dream away, yes, dream in combat, That a black eye is watching you."

She repeated the last sentence in her head and started whistling again.

A part of her kind of admired Carmen's outspoken independence, but she felt more in tune with the desperate animal. Like her, the powerful beast was driven by one goal: to gore everyone who stood between it and freedom.

No, she was no Carmen.

And of all the Robinsons, John was the soldier, the matador standing in her way.

The shots stopped.

In the sudden silence Harris was aware of a drop of sweat tickling down her spine.

Her throat tightened as she scanned the circular corridor, feeling as trapped as a bull in an arena. Her fingers clenched the flashlight, ready to smash John's head in two if he dared to attack her from the rear.

But she was alone.

Harris smirked. She'd heard John groan earlier. That it was his last rasping breath was a nice idea, but just in case... Harris took out the jet-injector and set it on the highest dosage.

At the end of this corrida, the bull would put down the _torero_.


	7. Chapter 7

A Robinson Tale

Part I

Freakuencies

* * *

Chapter 7

Will hit the deck, rolled, and crashed against his bedroom bulkhead.

Flat on his back, he stared at the darkness where the ceiling should have been. Why did he feel like he'd been thrown off a rollercoaster in the middle of a loop? he wondered, sitting up and rubbing his sore head.

A bump was forming under his scalp and his ears were ringing. Oh no... he had a concussion.

"Mom?"

But his voice was covered by a loud thud. Bang!

Will winced in pain as his headache spiked with each detonation.

Tears flooded his eyes.

Do not yield to panic, he told himself, feeling like he was back into the compression tank for the stress test when another loud bang made him jump.

Was someone knocking on his door?

Bang!

In the darkness, Will exhaled a long, shaky breath. It was the examiner banging at the door with a crowbar. The man wanted to pry his skull open to understand why he couldn't solve a basic shapes puzzle meant for a two-year old infant.

"Dad?"

His call was no louder than the previous one. He was alone. All alone.

The ship jolted. Will's fingers clawed at the deck as he gasped.

_I'm good with dark, confined spaces. I love dark, confined spaces. I'm okay. I'm not afraid._ Who was he kidding? He hated dark, confined spaces and his stomach felt like it sheltered a beehive in full activity and his legs felt like Jello.

Bang!

The boy pressed his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as tight as he could. It was as if a thousand of white hot needles were piercing his eardrums. If at least the ship would stop its creepy hollering! Human ears were not meant to process the kind of frequency the alien technology used to communicate with the robot.

Realizing that his headset was still hanging around his neck, Will put it over his ears. At once, the energetic beat of his father's running playlist replaced the banging and after a few seconds, the pain and the terror receded and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

He wasn't aware of having drifted off to sleep when he was woken by a jolt.

Though it was still impenetrable, the darkness had lost its harrowing character when he opened his eyes. He needed his flashlight, first thing. Second, he needed to get out of his room. Thirdly, he needed the others. Those were simple tasks, no reason to fret about them. The fourth one promised to be more complicated but was nonetheless critical: find a way to mute the ship, otherwise life on board was going to turn into a horror movie.

Will climbed on his bed to reach the shelf when his right hand pressed on his broken, baseball trophy. He patted the mattress and found his pad, then his ball, that was a rock... He winced. It looked like his whole shelf had emptied on his bed. Good thing he had fallen to the ground then. At last, at the head of his bed: his flashlight. On his pillow. With two other rocks.

Ouch! Like his father used to say, timing was everything. And maybe he should find a safer place to display his collection of rocks.

Making that a fith point on his list, Will switched the flashlight on and stood up. But the Jupiter jolted anew, forcing him to cling to his mattress as he added a sixth task to his list: finding out why a fit of hiccups afflicted the ship.

Once the tremor had passed, he swept the cold white beam all around him and gasped. What a mess! And to think that he had just put his room back in order. That made a seventh chore for his list.

Will shook his head and sighed even more deeply. He was going to need his mom's whiteboard to remember all this.

One thing at a time. Number two was getting out of his bedroom. Easy peasy. Will jumped off his bed and pushed on the button on the right side of the door.

Nothing happened.

What? Ah, right: power outage. Gosh, how could he be so slow? Never in his life would he take sleeping pills again. Make that point eight on the list. Point nine: have a talk with Judy not to lie to him ever again.

Will knelt on the left side of the door, unclipped the panel behind which the manual release was hidden, and pulled it up.

The door budged just enough for his fist to slid through. Will settled his back against the doorframe, inserted his foot in the gap, and pushed the door as hard as he could, jaw clenched and grunting. Will paused to catch his breath. The gap had increased by a few inches.

"Dammit!"

Hoping that his mother hadn't been around to hear him curse, he wriggled through the opening like a worm, dislodging his headphones.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he staggered into the corridor.

Will swept the beam of his flashlight all around him, wincing as he tried to endure the alien harmony and noticing that his headache was on the rise again. Definitely, there was a link here.

"Is anybody home?"

The ship rocked. The tremor amplified. A stronger jolt sent him bumping into the bulkheads near the shaft leading to the engines room. Will slid on his belly to grab the flashlight before it fell into the three-feet wide hole.

A loud bang exploded just as his fingers reached it.

Startled, Will dropped the light, scampered back, and hit the hub's bulkhead.

Was that a gunshot?

Aware that he had to get out of harm's way, the boy pressed a shaky hand on the bulkhead and stood up. Keeping one hand in contact with the bulkhead and stretching the other in front of him, he circled the corridor, eyes wide with a new fear while the map of the Jupiter formed in his mind. On his right was the infirmary. The door was closed. As was the hub's starboard opening.

Will froze.

A warm, reddish glow bathed the corridor in front of him. It could be coming from the red giant, he told himself. Or there was a robot in the cockpit. All those thuds and jolts and bangs, the reason for them was clear now: they'd been boarded.

Will stepped back. The gunshot had come from the Jupiter's lower deck. Was his father or mother fighting off another robot under him? The shots had stopped.

Will's breath quickened as a nightmarish image, his family exterminated by the robots, forced itself on his mind. An audible moan escaped his lips. Will pressed both his hands over his mouth and staggered backwards.

Loud thuds echoed. The reddish glow expanded.

Will tried to convince his legs to run, but a sixty-feet long circular corridor offered little place to hide.

The robot's face appeared ten feet in front of him.

Will gasped and raised his hands over his head, showing his empty palms.

"Please! We mean you no harm."

Negotiating a truce was all he had left.

The robot tilted his face and at once, blue-silver dots replaced the reds.

"Danger, Will Robinson."

Tears flooded Will's eyes as he gasped and laughed and sobbed. "Yeah, what's new?"

The robot spun his head back into the cockpit and moved toward it. Shaking from head to toe, Will followed him inside.

"I don't mean to offend you," he said as he entered, "but that noise the ship's making, it's harmful to us, humans. Is there a way to mute it? Or at least bring it down a notch?"

The robot nodded and leaned a hand on the console.

Will felt all his muscles relax as the alien music ebbed. He closed his eyes, let his chin dropped to his chest, and took a deep breath.

"Thanks."

A gentle push in the shoulder prompted Will to open his eyes. He frowned as the robot pointed toward the copilot's seat.

"You want me to sit down?"

The robot nodded and turned back toward the helm.

He'd just buckled up when the ship rolled starboard. A bright, white light burst into the cockpit. The boy raised a hand over his eyes and squinted.

"Wow! What is that?"

"Safe, Will Robinson."

Will gasped as he watched the Jupiter's nose dive through a planet's cloudy atmosphere.

* * *

End of Part I

Coming next: Part II - The Storm


End file.
